


The Ademan

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Drama & Romance, Friends to Lovers, Knotting, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Soulmates, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26293405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: It's not within you to become less than you are.
Relationships: Everett Ross & T'Challa, Everett Ross/T'Challa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Black Panther" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: This is a T'Challa x Ross fic. It's been rattling around in my drafts for months so I figured I would dust it off and get it out there. Please be aware this was written and edited before the tragic news of Chadwick's passing. No disrespect is mean't.
> 
> Warnings: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alpha/omega, omega!t'challa, alpha!ross, transformation, slow burn, friends to lovers, mild language, canon appropriate violence, drama, flirting, look at these clueless idiots, romance, angst, sexual content, knotting.

He spoke for days on Agent Ross' behalf. Challenging tradition. Ignoring his mother's growing frown. Fighting what he knew was a losing battle as Ross spent hours in the royal library, trying to understand the complexities of this exact history. But in the end, the Council would not be moved. Nothing he said would sway them. While they understood his position, their judgement was final.

If the outsider was to stay in Wakanda, he would become one of them in all ways.

Including going through the Ibada ya Mwisho.

The ritual that marked the right of passage into adulthood for his people.

He had been stunned by his own reaction. There had been anger on behalf of his friend - forced to make the decision in order to remain as a special envoy. But also guilt for how his heart had leapt in his chest. Excitement. Anticipation. Joy. _Hope_. He didn't want to examine the feelings too closely, lest he shame himself, but they were there nonetheless. At war with his best intentions as they met to discuss the Council's words.

"I still don't understand why this is necessary," Ross inferred as the five of them sat together. Running a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. Ruffling the silver strands until his fingers twitched at his sides. Fighting the impulse to smooth them himself.

_Gods, he was doomed._

"Think of it as a show of loyalty to Wakanda," Okeye informed him, standing behind him with her usual poise. Dispassionate, but kind. Obviously in agreement with the ruling. "If you complete the ritual, you will truly be one of us. The Council wants you to have a connection to the Kingdom's well being. It is the prudent choice."

"But I do. _I_ _am_. No ritual will change that. You are my friends. I fought with you. _For_ Wakanda," Ross pointed out, leaning forward with an expression that singed like hurt before it smoothed again. "And I'm here… now. Against the wishes of the C.I.A and Shield. ...Hell, I'm probably looking at a demotion if I keep ignoring their requests for intel."

It was true, of course.

He'd proven his loyalty.

And yet, they would demand more from him.

Someday he feared the American would stop rising to the occasion.

"Which is why this was even considered," his mother informed him, expression firm. But, as always, her eyes told the full truth – kind and wreathed in understanding. "It is no small thing, Agent Ross."

He caught Everett's eyes from across the table. Willing him to understand and accept his silent apology. His hands were tied, but his secret thoughts were worse. He doubted there were words to describe them.

"My mother is correct. To give the Ibada ya Mwisho to an outsider has never been done before," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "It is a connection to our sacred past and in that way, a great honor. If you refuse, you will not be judged. I realize this is much to ask and I wish it wasn't necessary. But I must follow my Council's guidance."

His keen Omega nose picked up the spike of frustration before it made it to the man's voice. Everett's scent had always been accessible to him. Even from the beginning. Which was why he'd never understood Shuri's griping about not being able to scent his intentions. Or even his stronger emotions. To him, and seemingly no one else, Everett was an open book.

He considered it a great privilege.

"But I won't be allowed to stay?" Ross pressed. Keen gaze straying no where but him. Looking for something neither of them were ready to voice as the others remained silent.

"No," he answered soberly. "You will not."

 _I want you to stay.  
_  
He didn't say it.

He couldn't.

Not yet.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the mirrored trays piled high with fruit and cheese. Examining the grim line of his mouth. In truth, he was exhausted. He'd spent hours looking through the ancient texts, looking for anything that could help him argue Ross' case. Something that would make the ritual too dangerous for the American to risk. A loophole. But there had been nothing.

This was too much to ask.

And yet he _would_ ask, and not just for Wakanda.

Someday he might be able to admit that he would ask for himself as well.

Ross sighed, rubbing his temples for a long moment. Looking decidedly regal in the colors of his house. It was a small comfort considering the circumstances, but he was pleased the man continued to wear what his staff left out for him. Apparently content to ignore the suitcase his people had shipped to him some weeks ago. Even now, it tugged at something in the center of his chest. To see Everett wearing the clothes of his people. To be able to provide for him. Dangerous thoughts, he knew. But nothing could be done for it, as far as the truth was concerned.

"Alright," Ross remarked finally, expelling a pent-up breath before leaning back in his chair. Thanking the woman who set a pitcher of drink on the table by name before she smiled and left them. "Explain this to me again."

He was pathetically grateful when Shuri didn't protest, despite having been through it more than once in recent days. If it had been any other time, he might have teased her. Aware she had a fondness for Ross that bordered on that of distant siblings. Instead, he remained silent as she launched into the basics. Highlighting the ties between vibrainium and their Ancestors as Ross listened closely.

It was a familiar story, woven thick with legend and mysticism. Every child in Wakanda knew it by heart. That once, long before the Great Cull, everyone on Earth had what they knew now as a secondary gender. Alpha, Beta and Omega. Alphas were known as the great protectors for their strength and natural ability to lead. Betas for their cunning and logic. And Omegas for their ability to nurture and strength of heart.

However, these traits slowly died out during the Great Cull. Growing more and more dormant until they became a thing of legend to the outside world. But not in Wakanda. Among his people, the lineage remained strong and was passed down through their descendants. But for Omegas within the Kingdom, they still faced much prejudice. It was only during the time of the Great Awakening that true equality was reached. No longer did Alphas rule and Omegas considered subservient to them. The old attitudes still held sway in some, but not enough to keep him from the throne. His people had come to understand long ago that one's secondary gender did not determine their place. Rather, it was the person themselves – no matter if they were Alpha, Beta or Omega - that determined their worth.

"And you're an Omega," Ross repeated, looking up at him significantly when Shuri paused. Blind to the scent that would have made the observation unnecessary.

It wasn't a question. But he treated it the same nonetheless. Not letting himself linger too much on the open interest he found in the back of those blue eyes. Agent Ross likely wasn't aware of it. How so many moments like these made him smell almost-

"Yes," he answered, inclining his head. "Save for heats and the ability to bear children, the difference is not significant. It is simply a part of who I am. My heats are controlled with suppressants. As is the same with Alphan ruts. Presenting as an Omega did not affect the way I lived or how I viewed the world. Nor how the people around me saw my right to the throne. I knew in my heart it was right. And I look forward to bearing the heirs to my Kingdom myself one day.

Everett shifted. Uncomfortable. Curious. And something else. A new scent. Smokey with an apple-wood tang he wanted nothing more than to inhale directly from the source.

"I won't lie to you, my friend," he continued soberly. "Like all our people, I had been preparing for my presentation my entire life. For you, it's a foreign idea at best. A concept that exists on the fringes of your mythology. Yet to us is as real as the ground at our feet. You're entitled to your skepticism- even your fear. Ask any questions you wish and we will answer them."

Ross frowned, drumming his fingers on the table for a long moment before-

"Forgive me if this comes out wrong. But, as the son of the King, as the next in line… was there an expectation that you would be an Alpha?"

Okeye shifted. Overprotective.

Perhaps too much so.

Because this didn't come from a place of bigotry.

This was Agent Ross testing them, even now.

If he was to go through with the ritual, he wanted to know what he was getting into.

The unspoken part was obvious.

_Would it have been better?_

_Would it have been better if he'd been an Alpha?  
_  
He inclined his head. Raising his hand to stop any comments from the others. Ross' trepidation came from a real place, as repulsive as the pre-enlightened mindsets were. He'd seen the passages that discussed the 'place of Omegas' in the old texts. Even the occasional movie in America still touted the tag-line of so-called 'Alphan superiority.' Despite the fact there hadn't been a presentation outside of Wakanda in centuries. From his observations, the trope often appeared in popular culture as some sort of obscene status symbol.

Ross wanted to know what his secondary gender would mean.

And he didn't blame him.

"In the Kingdom, the stigmas of the past exist only in a very small minority," he answered gently. "It has been this way since before my great grandfather's time. My father was an Alpha, this is true. But the same was not demanded of me. That is something none of us can control. I cannot say with certainty what I expected when I entered the sacred waters. Only that when I presented, it _felt_ right. It will be that way for you as well, if you chose it."

The question of if the ritual would even work on an outsider wasn't discussed.

There was no use considering failure until that failure made itself apparent.

Instead, he smiled softly as he remembered the day of his ceremony. Heart pounding in time with the drumbeats as his people made their approval known. The kingdom was blessed to have an Omega as it's heir and the rock walls had echoed with it. He'd felt the rightness of it settling over him like a balm as the Shamans approached. Finally understanding what had always been there. What had been alive _in_ him. Waiting to be realized.

"But I'll be different," Ross insisted, with a tone that made something in his spine stiffen. The Omega in him growingly upset at the idea of the man balking. "I won't be the same."

His sister, however, beat him to it.

"Consider it this way," Shuri proposed, bringing up Ross' medical chart and projecting it off the table. Then she brought up the charts of an Alpha, Beta and Omega patient - all prior to their presentation. Showing there was no difference. "Whatever you are, you _already_ are. The gene lives in you, even now. Just inactivated. Our proximity to vibranium allows us to activate those genes through the ritual."

Ross frowned, picking up his cup and raising it to his lips before putting it back down again without drinking. Unsettled. And again, he couldn't blame him. One's sense of self isn't easily set aside – especially for the unknown. For hormones, heats and ruts. All of which sounded foreign and frightening to those not accustomed to them.

"Much like ours, your gene simply sleeps… waiting to be called upon," Nakia assured, speaking for the first time since the Council's decision. Looking from him to Ross with a warm understanding he might have colored at if the situation had been less. "The only difference between you and I is that our people grow up knowing it is part of us. I understand your discomfort, Agent Ross. But believe us when we say that any change you feel will be a welcome one. Something that settles you... inside."

She rested a hand on her chest meaningfully. Just below her heart.

Ross looked thoughtful. Perhaps a bit less apprehensive then when they'd started.

_Thank the Ancestors for Nakia._

"If I was to go through with this, hypothetically- what are the side-effects? What changes on the day to day level? Other than…you know… _everything_ ," Agent Ross muttered, leaning forward in his seat. Highlighting the lean line of his back as his hands clasped in front of him.

Again, Shuri was surprisingly patient.

"Not as much as you think, colonizer," she teased, fond again. Gaining a small smile for her efforts. "It effects your hormones, so expect some behavioral and emotional changes until you learn control. If you're an Alpha, they heal faster and build muscle more easily. There are some physical changes…as you know… and you'll rut in the spring. If you present as an Omega, your reproductive organs will be altered and you will experience heats – have the ability to bear children. Alphas and Omegas experience their first heat or rut after the ritual, regardless. But chances are you'll be a Beta like Nakia, mother and I. Alphas and Omegas are statistically rare in comparison."

"Why?" Ross asked curiously.

Again, the change in tone gave him hope.

"Survival," he answered simply. Trying to banish the thought of Everett caught in his first rut. He'd been present at more than one ritual where the freshly turned Alpha sensed their Omega. Forcing their way through every barrier in an attempt to claim their bond-mate. Fevered and desperate, but absolute in their yearning. It was rare, but it did happen. This too had taken time to explain. That once he presented, Ross would be able to sense his mate in any crowd – so long as they also had the activated gene. The one true partner that was promised to all – and separated just as swiftly by the atoms of creation. "In ancient times, Alphas were not held to the same standards as now. As your legends say, they were deeply territorial when it came to their land, their mate, even their extended pack. Many wars were fought over such things, even for the attentions of an Omega who was _not_ their mate. So, you understand why it wouldn't be wise to have too many in one place. Today however, things are far more civilized."

"Alphas channel their aggression other ways," Nakia continued, nodding to Okeye. "Often taking on protective roles within our society. M'Backu is another example. He's an Alpha who rules his clan and challenged T'Challa for the throne. But he lost. To an Omega. You see, it's not _what_ you are, but _who_."

Ross' right hand twitched. Like the muscle memory of grasping a side arm. Before-

"And Killmonger? He was an Alpha."

The room sobered. The wound there still raw and prone to bleeding.

"Look, I don't want to bring it up, but- what if I-."

_-become like him?_

It wasn't voiced, but the inflection made it obvious.

"You won't," he answered quickly.

_I promise you won't._

_It's not within you to become less than you are._

He was certain of it.

"He inherited the gene from my Uncle. But he wasn't taught to control his Alpha nature and it consumed him. It was his thirst for vengeance that enabled his rage," he answered. Remembering the power behind Eric's blows. The unbridled anger that forced him to seek what was not his. He'd been completely beyond reason, beyond anything. Enough that the Shamans believed he'd been lost long before he'd arrived in Wakanda. When his cousin had gone through the ritual after defeating him in combat, his Alpha nature had only festered what was left. Like a rot that'd found fresh ground on which to spread.

He understood Everett's hesitation even on a lighter note, however.

Alphas could often be an… acquired taste.

"And Betas?" Ross continued. Frowning gently as the others started to relax. Expelling a pent-up breath as Killmonger returned to the shadows of obscurity. Where he belonged.

"You would remain much the same as you are now, save for increased senses. Your sense of smell would increase – you'd be able to tell who is Alpha or Omega by their scent. Much like an Alpha or Omega can," he continued. Determined to deny him nothing. It didn't matter how many times they'd gone over this. How much sleep he'd lost to worrying as the issue worked its way through the council. He-

Agent Ross heaved a sigh. Rubbing his hand over his face before-

"Okay, so- to wrap this up, what else do I need to know going into this?"

The others shifted. Confused. But Nakia understood. She'd spent years outside Wakanda and knew how those without the gene thought. To Ross this was more than just foreign, it was frightening. Life changing.

"We've been told that since you're already an adult, the ritual will likely be quite strenuous. It will be physically taxing regardless of your presentation. There's a reason it's a coming of age ritual. The young handle such changes easier. But the doctors have assured us it will be safe. We would not ask this of you if it would cause you harm."

Ross appeared to consider this. Something in his body language shifting. Making his heart soar with tenuous excitement as the man knocked back the rest of his drink and spoke. Clearing his throat as Ross looked at him. The weight of his gaze settling significantly in the air between them. Heavy but not suffocating.

"If it makes it easier… and fosters trust, I'll do it. I trust you."

He was able to sense the other's pleasure almost immediately. Only just realizing that he wasn't the only one with an interest in Everett staying. Perhaps everyone had different reasons, but it was clear they approved of him. It was warming to know. To know they were pleased with his chosen. That they _wanted_ him to stay. That they wanted-

He was surprised out of his thoughts when his mother spoke. Rising from her seat as her attendants approached to accompany her out.

"This is permanent, Agent Ross. You must understand. It cannot be reversed. It cannot be taken back. Not even if you wish it. You must be sure this is what you want. Altering yourself this way is not something to be taken lightly, even if it means you can remain here. You must be the judge, not just of your mind, but your heart as well. This is your choice alone. On that, we cannot guide you."

Ross nodded.

"I said I'll do it. For Wakanda," the man replied, seeming to make a point to not voice the rest. Enough for him to dare to hope it was for him as well.

He held back a shiver, but only just.

* * *

The night before the ritual, he found him on the roof of the east wing of the palace. It was a curious place to be, even if it was to be alone. But he understood when he realized it was the stars that held Everett's attention.

He smiled, at the Agent's easy slouch against the stone. Following the line of Ross' back as the stars shone brightly through the high wisps of far-away clouds

 _Gods, he was lost._  
  
Of course Everett would look to the sky when the ground felt uncertain under his feet.

A pilot was ever a pilot, forever in love with the sky.

He was still smiling when Ross huffed an honest sigh. Head dropping down between his shoulders. Hands loose around the metal railing as the scent of evening blooms rose like a heady perfume.

He was such a wild, quiet thing. Prone to an unpredictability he couldn't help but appreciate, even when it continued to catch him off guard. It had been far too easy to like him. And even when he hadn't, the temptation had still been there. Ross was not as flashy or rash as his counterparts in Shield. He was steadfast. Balanced. Unobtrusive, but just as lethal. Downplaying his skills and only showing his potential when necessary. Just like a true spy operative should be.

"I'm sorry you must to do this, my friend," he murmured, as he joined him against the railing.

Ross cleared his throat, hands in his pockets. Looking over at him quickly before returning his gaze to the skyline.

"I'm not."

He waited, knowing it wasn't the whole truth. Allowing him to come to it in his own time as they stood there together. Breathing through the moments that threatened to thicken and get stuck in their throats. Heavy with all the things they couldn't bring themselves to say. Not yet.

Ross sighed loudly, shaking his head.

"Look, I'm not going to lie. I can't say I'm _not_ nervous. Or that this isn't a lot to ask. Because it is. _Christ_ \- _it is._ But I think I understand why. And I do, you know? I want to stay. I want to make this work. If this is what it takes, well, I'm too far in to back out now, right?"

His lips parted. Unsure of how he wanted to answer.

"Second puberty at forty," Ross laughed suddenly, snorting with mirth and slapping his knee like it was so ridiculous he couldn't keep it in. "What the hell right?"

And maybe it was.

Because he couldn't help but join him.

He laughed, rumbling and rich, before risking it all to put his arm around him companionably. Inhaling the man's scent freely. Remembering ruefully there'd been a time he'd thought it bland and boring. And while that had been years ago, it still humbled him. It had taken time for him to understand that while the man's scent wasn't strong, it was there regardless. Subtle and teasing. Begging a second glance to anyone who cared to sample it. He closed his eyes as the richness made him shiver with pleasure. Guilty in the knowledge that for better or worse, this would be the last time he could do this without the man being aware.

No one else smelled that way to him.

_Why?_

"The world is a lot weirder than I remember when I was a kid," Ross admitted, shoving him a bit with his shoulder as they looked off at the stars together. Grounding him to the moment as the quiet settled around them with a gentle weight.

"Not weirder, my friend," he answered, eying the horizon and the dawn that lurked behind it with excited trepidation. "Just bigger."

Neither of them moved for a long time after that.


	2. Chapter 2

There was lightening in the air as the ritual started. Illuminating distant mountains as representatives from the clans gave their greetings and retreated. Each one met his eyes. Firm in their decision as the doors to the Shaman's quarters opened.

Part of him wanted to scream. To accuse them of indifference or worse. While another part, equally loud, just wanted _to know_. To get past the tension straining in his chest. Feeling like any moment it was going to snap his ribs and show his heart for all to see.

His mouth was painfully dry as he watched Ross approach the lake fissure. He couldn't look anywhere else. Not even when Nakia tried to catch his eye, reassurance and strength in the shoulder brush that followed. The air was alive with the sound of drums and low, pitching chants. Only highlighting the absurdity of the moment as Ross awkwardly fisted the antelope skin around his waist. More naked with it on then if he'd been bare.

His breath caught in his throat when Ross bowed to the Shamans, then to him.

Knowing this was the last moment he'd be able to object.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Even the oxygen in his lungs seemed to be dragging.

But the man stayed silent.

Ross didn't waver.

He'd never known inner conflict to taste so sweet.

When Ross was lowered into the water, he refused to let go of his gaze. Watching the ribbons of electricity condensing around him. Highlighting his pale skin as the vibranium weaved with the lake plants and formed a purple mask around his mouth and nose. Allowing him to breathe as he sank under the surface.

He kept the image in his mind as the water rippled, taking him to the lake bottom. Choosing to remember the gentle way Ross' eyes had fluttered closed. Arms crossed in the Wakandan salute. Lips black from ceremonial herbs. They'd met eyes like that, just before the drums rolled towards a familiar beat the mountains knew better than the wind.

The sound of youth ending, and adulthood being ushered in.

The sound of change. _Possibility._

"He'll be alright," Nakia assured him, leaning into his shoulder as the crowd stomped their feet to the drums. Returning the silent squeeze of Shuri's hand as she stood beside him. "He is strong."

He nodded, wordless.

_Yes. Ross was strong._

And he had faith in more than just the man himself.

He had faith in his people and their rituals.

After all, his unease wasn't so much about the situation as it was the outcome.

Hesitant to give leave for the voice inside his head to whisper it's dangerous truths.

The one that reminded him he'd spent just as long fighting on Ross' behalf as he had praying the man would be hi-

His mother's hand fell on his back. Comforting him from a dignified distance as the muscles twitched under the weight. Unable to stop the tell as he fought to keep his face impassive. Eyes fixed on the spot Ross had disappeared.

"Whatever will be, will be, my son. His path was already chosen."

He nodded, knowing it was true.

But on the inside, he was a mausoleum of hastily buried hopes he didn't dare acknowledge.

Not yet.

It was up to Agent Ross now.

* * *

Hours passed.

 _Too_ _many_.

Longer than any in memory.

But when the water finally broke, bringing the crowd to their feet with a welcoming chant, all that was forgotten as emotion soared high.

He'd seen this ritual from start to finish more than a hundred times. He knew the power of the drumbeat. The taste of the herbs in the air. The red flare of the Shaman's robes. The anxious excitement of the crowd that spread from person to person faster than you could follow as the thrum of emotion spiked like adrenaline.

He'd taken part in it, just as all his people had. He'd gone through the change. He'd fought the heaviness of the water, struggling to breathe as the vibranium mask disintegrated around him. Instinct driving him _up-up-up_ towards the light. He'd felt the powerful sense of rightness settling over him as the water streamed down in complicated rivulets. Remembering the exhaustion. The feeling of finally being whole as the cliffs rebounded his people's approval.

He'd stood in this very spot and watched his sister go through the same thing.

But somehow, nothing could have prepared him for this.

Ross broke through the water fist first, like he'd kicked off from the bottom and speared towards the surface. Feeling the desperate gasp for air like it was his own as the Everett coughed up water. Fingers clenched like claws as he searched blindly for the lake-edge and clung fast to it.

He couldn't help the sudden step forward, relief flooding through him. Shuri and Nakia stopped him. Holding him back as Ross hauled himself out of water and collapsed on the rocky edge. Eyes narrowed to slits against the brightness as he wiped his face. Instinctively pulling himself into a protective crouch – shielding his vulnerable parts - as the drum-beat slowed.

Ross' skin was scratched and red, naked save for a covering of silt and vibranium dust that streaked him from head to toe. His heart was heavy in his chest as Everett's head bowed, knuckles pressed into the rocky ground like an anchor. Shaking with chill or weakness as he wavered there, chest heaving. Dripping water that stained the rocks with a purple ocher.

_Was he alright?_

_Should he go to him?_

The Shamans approached while Ross was trying to collect himself. Coating the air with ceremonial herbs that puffed high before raining down. Speckling the American's skin with the red dirt of their home before calling on him to make himself known. Singing their greetings in the oldest and most sacred languages, knowing instinct would guide him.

And it did.

Because before they could get any closer, Ross lifted his head, teeth bared in challenge.

Fierce.

Proud.

_Alpha._

He exhaled softly, rocking back on his heels in open relief.

The crowd gasped.

The Shamans stepped back, bowing low. Giving the new Alpha space as the Ross scanned the crowd, chest heaving. Showing his strength in every breath as he slowly straightened. Bare and unashamed as his cock hung heavy between his legs - thick and cut in the way those outside Wakanda often favored.

His lips parted. Wet. Hopeful. Chewing down a whine.

"T'Challa..." Shuri hissed, fingers digging into his hip. Not a question. Not a plead. But something else. Like she knew. It was enough to shake him out of the wash of want that would have taken down any Omega. Shaking himself as his mother joined him at the cliff edge. Looking down at the scene below as the crowd rippled with curious excitement. After all, a freshly presented Alpha was a temptation few could resist.

And, apparently, _wouldn't_ resist.

Before he could pull himself together, an Omega female he didn't recognize hitched boldly from the circle of clans. There was a smile on her face, but the momentum behind her entrance spoke of being pushed. A suspicion that was confirmed when one looked at the shrewd expression of her Beta mother. Anger curled through him like a flash-fire as the Omega cooed at Agent Ross. Turning the air with a classic Omega churl. It was in invitation. A promise to sooth, comfort and provide. A respite from the burn of rut and confusion as Ross' hands clenched into fists at his sides.

But when she dared to take another step, emboldened by the confused tilt of his head, Ross jerked away, snarling.

Reminding them it was the _Alpha_ who chose.

That he would accept no one but his rightful mate.

And that if his bond-mate was present, he would-

This time when he stepped forward, it was allowed. Watching with a soaring heart as Ross found him, scenting the air. He exhaled unsteadily when the Alpha staggered forward. Leaving no doubt of his intentions as he dropped to one knee in front of the dais. Expression a rictus of pain, need and a hundred other emotions he wished to understand in detail as the Alpha reached for him.

"Mine," Ross rasped, teeth violently white against stained lips. Voice alive with that feral resolve that was so common in Alphas before his eyes rolled back in his head. Fainting dead away on the uneven rocks, unaware that his world had completely changed.

The leaders of the other clans shifted, inhaling air that was either sucked between their teeth or expelled like they'd been dealt an unexpected blow. But beside him, Shuri and Nakia clutched him with glowing excitement. Joining the building song that echoed like a second chorus against the rocks.

_Rejoice for the land is stronger._

_Rejoice for the boy who has become a man._

_Rejoice for the welcome of a warrior._

_Rejoice the coming of the White Alpha, chosen mate of the King.  
_

His knees were weak, more affected than he could express as the Shamans knelt at Everett's side. Covering his body with the colors of his house and anointing his forehead and chest with sacred symbols. Painting them deep as the faded black and purple stood out like a beacon on the man's skin.

Distantly he could hear the other's chatter.

Their shock and disquiet.

But he wasn't surprised at all.

This was what he hadn't risked saying aloud.

What he hadn't even admitted to himself in the quiet of his own thoughts.

The fact that somehow, he'd known all along.

Everett was his.

_He'd always been his._

He couldn't help the shaky laugh as they carried his Alpha away on a stretcher.

Realizing in a slow, honeyed rush that Ross had been right.

" _I'm too far in to back out now, right?"_

And to think, he'd been worried.


	3. Chapter 3

His heart was tight in his chest as he stepped out of the safety of the temple and walked down the stone steps. The echo of a dozen drums beating in time was enough to make anxiety catch in his throat. Heart racing as he tugged the antelope skin tighter around his hips. Squinting into the bright African sun as what looked like the entire god damned city watched from the cliffs.

_Christ._

To say he was in too deep would have been an understatement.

He'd read a dozen first-hand accounts leading, but still- the loin cloth caught him by surprise. Feeling out of place as he'd stared at it wearily. Wondering if they really expected him to wear it or if this was a joke at his expense. He would have believed either – both. But he didn't have the chance to figure it out considering he'd been summarily undressed and washed by the Shaman and his acolytes. Trying his best to not get in the way as they mixed herbs that made his nose twitch. Holding back a sneeze as they rubbed spiced oils into his skin. The air was thick and far too hot as they poured more herbs over the coals, filling the room with fragrant smoke.

He felt unsteady. Not anxious anymore, but as if he was outside of himself. In the passenger seat rather than behind the wheel.

His head spun as they led him outside. Clutching the animal skin like a life preserver. Hyper-aware of how little it covered as the dust and grit peppered his calves with static pin-pricks. It was the same sort of vulnerability he equated to hospital gowns. He probably would have felt less naked if he _had_ been naked.

He figured it would have made T'Challa smile though.

And maybe he was smiling somewhere, hell if he could find him in the crush of people.

It was a comforting thought he held onto as the swell of the crowd grew deafening.

He swallowed hard, refusing to let his unease make it to his face as he reached the water.

He'd faced harder, crazier things. As an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D he'd seen and done his fair share of them. He'd already made up his mind. Done his soul searching. He couldn't back out now. _He wouldn't._ The decision had been made for him when the thought of leaving Wakanda had thickened in his throat like a cancer. Sour and unpalatable.

T'Challa wanted him to stay.

He hadn't come out and said it, but he could tell.

And that mattered.

It mattered a lot.

More than it probably should have.

The drumbeat paused in the middle of a soaring crescendo when they eased him into the water. Giving him a moment to Centre himself as they crossed his arms over his chest. Nodding with tight lips at the Head Shaman before hands were drifting down his face – tracing the sacred symbols as the water turned the animal hide dangerously heavy.

He could do this.

He could do this.

He could-

* * *

When he woke up, he didn't remember the water.

He didn't remember _anything._

It had been like going under on an operating table.

Weightless.

Placeless.

Where you were completely at peace in the dark until you suddenly weren't anymore.

He didn't remember the moment the oxygen mask fell away. Or how every atom in him had been screaming for air as he kicked off the bottom – fighting the thick purple sand. He didn't remember the moment he changed. The moment the other half of him had been pulled out of his bones, screaming and awake. He didn't have time to understand the new, vibrating, violent purpose that rolled through him like a rip-tide. Something that needed to be used or he might tear himself apart just for the distraction.

The last thing he saw, the last thing he knew, was finding T'Challa in the crowd.

Wishing the worry on his face was a smile instead.

* * *

"I gave him a rut blocker. But it's only temporary. You have two hours, give or take, I can't delay it any longer. _I won't._ His levels are already too high for my liking."

He woke up to every muscle aching. The only thing he could compare it to was the bruises you got when you were hit wearing a flak jacket. Only this was every part of his body. Even his fucking _feet_ hurt.

"That's fine. I must speak with him before anything happens. I need to be sure."

He perked up at T'Challa's voice. Sitting up and biting back a groan. Listening intently as he cocked his head, realizing they were somewhere behind him. Far enough away that they hadn't seen him stir. They had their backs to him.

He frowned, regretting the action immediately when a headache bloomed between his eyes.

_How did he know that?_

"What is there to discuss?" Shuri shot back impatiently. Making him smirk as her tone grew heated. Glad it wasn't fixed on him for once. "He chose you."

He listened intently, rolling the stiffness from his neck and shoulders. Breathing slowly, testing the limits of what he could handle before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Dressed in the same black shirt and pants he'd woken up in the last time he'd been a patient here. Surprisingly, he was already feeling a lot better.

"He isn't used to our ways. Some things must be said. Explained. I will do this properly and with his full consent. Not in a way he can't control. I don't want that to be what he remembers."

He held himself back from interrupting. Chewing on the inside of his lip as part of him wanted to move. _To go to him._

There was something in T'Challa's voice he couldn't stand.

There was a pause, then-

"He was under for a long time, Shuri. Are you sure he's alright?"  
 _  
Under?_

He gripped the table as a flashback took him back there. To the way the light from the surface had dimmed the deeper he sank. To the spark of purple light winding around him. The impossible weight of his eyelids and-

"What did I just say?! Agent Ross is fine. T'Challa, here, _look_ \- this his chart. I need more data, but with his age and genetic distance from his secondary gender it isn't surprising the ritual took so long. It's never been done before, we had to expect some abnormalities."

Everything came rushing back at once.

_Christ._

_The ritual._

He slipped off the table, testing the give of his feet. Pleased when his knees didn't buckle. He rounded the corner and found them staring at a screen displaying- well, he had no idea. But he was going to find out.

"Always been something of a late bloomer," he said wryly, breaking the silence as Shuri jumped in surprise. Hissing a curse. Muttering about putting a bell on him - if his basic understanding of Xhosa anything to go by.

But T'Challa just stared at him, expression warm and slightly mischievous.

"What happened?" he pressed, ignoring the flashing light as Shuri quickly scanned him, taking his vitals. "Did it work?"

It had. That was his sense of things anyway. The possibility of failure meant he'd be forced to leave and the way they were acting didn't raise any alarm bells. Maybe he'd come out of this a Beta and had nothing to worry about. He didn't feel any different, really. In fact, he felt- _good_.

He blinked, realizing his headache was gone.

"Yes, you presented," T'Challa told him, watching him carefully. "What do you remember?"

He frowned. _Had he done something?_

"Don't force it," Shuri told him, his latest scan rotating above their heads. "Your body has been through a massive change. It isn't unexpected."

"How do you feel?" T'Challa asked, coming closer. Making something in his chest loosen a fraction. He hadn't been aware the distance was bothering him.

He sighed, almost content. Pleased at the warm tones the man was giving off.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, shrugging sore shoulders. Squinting at the read outs. "Not different if that's what you're asking. I was feeling god awful when I woke up, but that's gone now. You didn't say faster healing was one of the Beta traits."

T'Challa and Shuri shared a look.

"It isn't," T'Challa replied delicately.

But he was too distracted to probe further.

There was something far more interesting to be investigated here.

Those warm tones he'd sensed before were coming from _T'Challa._

They were stronger now, enticing him to lean in and scent him further.

His lips parted, jaw tensing and releasing. Wanting more.

"I don't-"

He broke off, swallowing hard. Mouth suddenly wash with saliva.

"What's that smell?" he rasped, like getting the words out was more than he could handle. "T'Challa... you smell like-"

Shuri took a step back, then another. Watching closely.

T'Challa didn't move.

But he did.

He couldn't help it.

In a moment he was rubbing his face into T'Challa's shoulder. Delighted when the scent caramelized - almost intoxicatingly good. He scented him without thinking about it. Without knowing what it was or how he was doing it. Emboldened, he backed him into a desk and buried his nose in the dark of his neck. Pleased when the man allowed it.

In fact, the purr T'Challa let go of only made it better.

He was being welcomed.

Mate.

Omega.  
 _  
His._

Shuri cleared her throat, saying something he didn't catch over the roaring in his ears. Annoyed at the interruption, he pulled back, showing her his teeth. Growling so deep he could feel the rumble in his chest before she leaned over and flicked his nose.

He blinked, startled. Suddenly back to himself.

_What the hell?_

"Down, boy," Shuri teased, scent edged with a fair amount of caution. Enough to tell him she wasn't planning on doing anything else. "I don't question your claim. I just don't want it happening here."

A sudden scent rose up, causing him to look down.

He was hard.

_Jesus._

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Go somewhere else to figure out your domestics. I can smell it too, you know. _Gross_ ," Shuri told them, making shooing motions towards the door that led into the palace and towards T'Challa's private wing.

"Come, Everett," T'Challa hummed, warm hands cupping his elbows, encouraging him away. Body running hot. Excited, nervous and hungry as he followed him without complaint. Swearing he could feel the thud of his pulse through his cock as it tented his slacks in a very obvious and mortifying way.

_What the fuck?_

He mopped at his forehead, sweat rolling down from his hairline.

_Christ, what was happening?_

"Have fun," Shuri chirped, smirk wicked as the sliding doors whisked open. "I'll inform mama that you'll be indisposed for the next week or so."

T'Challa towed him into the hall. Half holding him up as a rush of scent hit him like a wall. He chewed on a hysterical laugh as T'Challa snarked something in response. Wondering if he was still underwater as Shuri's laughter followed them.

* * *

They barely made it to T'Challa's rooms before he pivoted, pressing T'Challa against the door so that it snapped closed behind them. Hips hitching into T'Challa's as he dragged his nose into the crux where shoulder met neck. Glutting himself there.

"What- what is happening?"

T'Challa's hands gripped his shoulders. Not pushing him away, but keeping him grounded as his body shook. He felt too much, over stimulated. His body felt like a fourteen-lane highway. Overwhelming and loud.

"It's your rut... you- you've mated. _You chose me._ Your body knows even if your mind doesn't recognize it yet," T'Challa breathed, arcing into his touch. Cock just as hard as they grazed each other with every awkward jerk of his hips. "Shuri said the blockers would last a few hours, but I don't think you have that long."

A flash of memory rose in his mind's eye. He remembered the jar as he dropped to his knees in front of him. He remembered being sure. More sure of anything in his entire life as he looked up and felt everything click into place. Knowing the Omega was his. Knowing-

His mind raced. Bracing himself against the door as T'Challa's hands tugged at his clothes. Fumbling with buttons and rucking up his shirt so he could get at skin.

_Oh Jesus, that meant-_

"Alpha..." T'Challa whispered, confirming it. Rubbing his lips against his cheek with a rumbling sound that echoed sweetly.

He froze, then melted. The title doing something to his hind brain.

T'Challa used the moment to sit him on the edge of the bed, sinking down on his haunches in front of him. He couldn't find the words to protest, and even then, the hands on his thighs were enough to send him reeling again.

_His._

His nostrils flared. Taking in their new positions and finding he liked it. He reached for the Omega, but was stopped when T'Challa shrugged away, shaking his head. The elegant way he usually spoke stripped raw and vulnerable.

"Everett... If we continue, we'll be tied for life. There will be no others. Do you understand?"

His hands covered T'Challa's before he was even aware he'd moved. He nodded, throat dry. Working his jaw back and forth before he could get out anything recognizable. It was like every inch of him was focused elsewhere. All the blood in him certainly was. And he had a feeling it was going to get worse. Finally understanding the undercurrent of urgency in T'Challa's voice. He wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into.

He shouldn't have worried.

The Alpha part was a shock, sure.

But not wanting T'Challa.

He was pretty sure that had been there all along.

"I want it- I want _you_ ," he replied, struggling to get his thoughts together. "I can't think, I-I don't understand any of this, but I know its right. You. Me. _Us._ It makes sense now."

It wasn't much.

In terms of consent it probably didn't cover all the bases.

But apparently it was enough, because with a shift of the air, the Omega's scent was-

"Let me take care of you," T'Challa hummed, fingering the hem of his pants. Easing them down his hips slowly at first- then with more force as he sat there like an idiot. Caught off guard as the words went directly to a part of his brain he'd never noticed before.

He growled when the fabric pooled around his ankles. Cock so hard it swayed almost completely upright. Ridiculous and flushed an angry red. There was something else too, a strange thickening around the base. But he didn't have time to examine it before T'Challa's hand gripped him, squeezing firmly.

Oh.

Well, _shit._

"I knew you'd be mine," T'Challa murmured, breathing hot gusts of air as he scented down the length of his cock with an exaggerated drag. Letting the dry of his lips catch against the skin as he fisted his hands in the Omega's shirt. Bunching the fabric. Wanting him bare.

And really, he wondered if he'd known it too.

After all, he'd stayed, hadn't he?

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- Ademan: gesture.
> 
> \- Ibada ya Mwisho: 'the final ritual' in Swalil.


End file.
